


She Thinks She's The Dispassionate One

by amathela



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2010-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-14 02:30:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amathela/pseuds/amathela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Pawnee Government Ball.  Super exciting.  Making out with your boss.  Super appropriate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Thinks She's The Dispassionate One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Annakovsky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annakovsky/gifts).



> Written as a Yuletide treat. Set roughly post-season two.

The first thing April does is make her way straight over to the bar.

(She doesn't usually drink - not since her birthday, what's the point? - but she has a feeling she's going to want to tonight.)

She doesn't order anything in particular ( _something gross,_ she tells the bartender; best case scenario, maybe she'll get to go home sick), and what she gets is unidentifiable, bright green and so strong she's not sure she still has eyebrows.

She downs half of it in one long gulp.

The second thing she does is try not to see anyone she knows, but it's kind of hard, when Leslie's waving frantically to try to get her attention; wearing one of those suits again, but Ann looks less uncomfortable this time. At least she has a proper date.

(Not that April's bitter. At all.)

She slides into her seat silently - Leslie actually saved it for her, or maybe they were assigned, whatever - and endures six and a half minutes of small talk before Leslie rushes off to sweet talk some super important Pawnee government official or something, which April is pretty sure is an oxymoron. But, whatever. April actually likes Leslie, but mostly from a distance.

Ron glances at her, eyebrow raised, and she shrugs.

"What the hell are you drinking?" he asks after a while, and she shrugs again. Swirls the disgusting concoction around in her glass and downs it. He shakes his head, pushes his glass over to her, and goes over to the bar; a few minutes later, he's back with another drink.

"Whiskey," he says, when she still hasn't touched the drink he handed her. "Drink it, it's good for you."

April's not sure that's right, but whatever. It's alcoholic, and he's her boss, so she should probably do what he says. (As long as it's a good excuse for doing what she already wants.)

It's good, she guesses - she's not really into whiskey, whatever, she's not her dad - and Ron's watching her as she tastes it, like he's expecting something. So she smiles, kind of, and says, "Thanks."

Ron nods, like he's satisfied, and they go back to drinking in silence.

There are two fresh glasses on the table as soon as she's finished, and Ron raises his glass in a salute. April's already starting to get a buzz.

So, maybe tonight won't be that bad.

-

(Actually, it's worse. There are, like, five thousand speeches, all by the same guy with Leslie's exact hairstyle and way too much enthusiasm for local politics. Or maybe they're all different speakers who are somehow indistinguishable, it's not like it makes a difference.

Leslie sits in rapt attention, clutching Ann's hand at what are apparently really exciting moments. Ron looks like he's paying about as much attention as April is, keeping their drinks topped up like the open bar is the only thing keeping him here, and sometimes he looks over at April, his eyebrow quirked in amusement, and she kind of smiles back in response. Whatever, it's not like she's having fun.

It feels like hours before dinner is served, overcooked chicken on a bed of wilted lettuce, and April's already pretty tipsy by then.

On the plus side, maybe she won't have to remember this in the morning.)

-

Leslie barely finishes her dinner before she rushes off, dragging Ann with her again. ( _You're pretty,_ she says, when Ann asks her why Leslie can't talk to whatshisface alone. Ann shrugs, like that's an actual answer; sometimes, April really doesn't get them, and sometimes she thinks she almost does.)

"Having fun?" Ron asks when they're alone again. But not in, like, a Leslie way, where he actually expects her to say yes.

"A blast," she says flatly.

"You didn't have to come, you know."

( _I need a date,_ earlier, and she hadn't asked him why he didn't already have one. She really doesn't need to know about Ron's romantic life. She'd paused, considering, and then, _Do I get paid overtime?_ )

April shrugs. "Sure I did."

Ron just nods, and finally, "Thank you."

(Besides. At least five people have already tried to come up to talk to Ron, ask him about some project or memo or just say hi, and April's warded them all off with her best stare. Ron totally needs her.)

"I'm going to go outside," he says after a while, "and have a cigar."

It's not exactly an invitation, but April follows him anyway.

-

April doesn't smoke, and cigars are pretty disgusting, like, they're covered in someone else's spit? Gross. But she takes the cigar when Ron hands it to her, because that's kind of what she's doing tonight, and it's only almost as disgusting as she expects it to be.

"I'm impressed," Ron says, when she hands it back.

April shrugs. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty impressive."

She never expects anyone to take that seriously, but Ron looks like he kind of does.

It takes a while for her to notice they're alone on the balcony. Ron stubbed out the cigar a while ago, and the noise from inside is definitely dimmer, like everything's winding up and people are starting to go home. She can hear Leslie, faintly, in the background; enough to know that she's talking about her latest idea to prevent more budget cuts, and April kind of hates that she knows that, but whatever. She needs to keep on top of these things, in case people try to talk to Ron about it.

"Want to go back?" Ron asks.

"Not really," she says.

He nods. "Want another drink?"

"Nah."

"Do you want to go home?"

April considers him. An hour ago, she would have said yes.

She kisses him instead.

-

April presses a hand against Ron's chest as he pushes her back, up against the rough stone wall. They're about four feet from the door, so close she could almost see in if she turned her head a little, but nobody's been in or out in ages, and - fuck it, April's not sure she'd care if someone did catch them.

Ron's hand is moving up the outside of her thigh, bunching up her dress above the knees, and, honestly? She's a little surprised. She knows she's awesome and everything, but Ron's kind of - well, he's Ron, and she figured he'd be freaking out or something, like. He's her boss, and she's half his age, but instead he's leaning into her, his tongue in her mouth, hands this close to being seriously indecent. (Or, well. They might be there already. She hasn't exactly memorised the Pawnee public conduct code or whatever.)

April's never kissed anyone with a moustache before. It's kind of weird.

She doesn't really know exactly where she expected this to go, even though she was the one who started it. She was just - really bored, or something. A little drunk. This is definitely further than she though Ron would take it (as in, nowhere), but she kind of doesn't mind.

Okay, fine, she definitely doesn't mind. Not when Ron's tongue is doing that and his hands are doing -

 _That._

(Secret: Sometimes she used to wonder how Ron managed to get married twice.

Now she knows.)

One of Ron's hands, the one that isn't making her breathe kind of heavily, is tugging at her underwear, and April kind of has a _holy shit, what is going on here?_ moment. But she also has a _what the fuck is taking him so long?_ moment, because he's going really slowly, like he's just - waiting for her to change her mind, or whatever.

Fuck that. She had to get dressed up and come to this stupid thing (for the record, no, she isn't getting paid); the least she can do is get laid.

"Hurry up," she breathes, and Ron pulls back, quirks an eyebrow at her. He looks very _Ron,_ just. Slightly more dishevelled.

And then he does what she tells him, because that's usually how their relationship works, too.

April bites her lip, hooks her leg around the back of his knees, tries not to swear as he hits the spot right _there._ This is a classy event, after all. She's going to fuck her boss up against a wall in a classy kind of way.

(Ron's not so classy, and seriously. Some of those words she didn't even know.)

His moustache tickles her neck as she comes, and then she guesses he does too or whatever, because suddenly it's over, and it's -

Not really awkward. She doesn't know if that's weird.

"I did not mean to do that," Ron says. He hasn't even got his pants zipped up yet. April tries to work out if he regrets it and figures, probably not. She's pretty good at sex.

She shrugs. "I don't mind."

"Okay," he says, and that's the thing she likes about Ron. (Well, that, and now his hands.) If he says it's okay, he probably means it.

"Yeah," she says.

And then Leslie's sticking her head through the door, _Oh, there you guys are,_ and April double checks to make sure her underwear is back on.

They are, and Ron's shirt is even tucked in again.

"Yeah," April says. This is her job, answering questions so Ron doesn't have to. Usually they don't concern her. "I was bored."

"Well, it's over now," Leslie says, half chiding, half cheerful. "I guess we shut the place down." Beside her, Ann rolls her eyes, like she's as bored as April is.

Well. April isn't really that bored, so probably more.

"That's our cue, then," Ron says, and waits until they're out of earshot before he asks, "Do you want me to drive you home?"

"Nah," she says. "It's still early." It's only, like, midnight. Her parents are probably still up and everything.

"Oh," Ron says.

"I could go for some pancakes," she says then, because - whatever, she just doesn't feel like clubbing tonight. "Your shout."

He gives her a considering look. "At midnight?" he asks.

She shrugs. "It's never too late for breakfast."

"A woman after my own heart," he says, and smiles.

April doesn't smile back, okay. (Well. Much.)


End file.
